


Weak

by EvilPeaches



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asphyxiation, Belts, Consensual Sex, Emotional Issues Galore, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Rope Bondage, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sadism, Sexual Content, Slice of Life, Stockholm Syndrome, Toxic Relationships, Violence, Whipping, all the bad feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6297571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilPeaches/pseuds/EvilPeaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramsay lives by a simple rule in his ‘relationship’: the one who cares the least is the one who has all the power. Anything else would make him weak. Modern AU.</p>
<p> <br/><span class="small">Or otherwise known as: When your boyfriend isn't a masochist and you're an emotionally stunted sadist.</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Weak

**Author's Note:**

> **Authors Note:** Alright, so this tale is super old and I found it sitting on my computer and decided to finish it in a rush of inspiration. This is something different from what I usually do with Ramsay and Theon, usually there is more torture and agony, but this round we are in a modern AU where these two are in an established relationship...a horrible, terrible and abusive one at that (I do not condone abusive relationships in anyway, but these two definitely fit the bill). This is almost **entirely** in Ramsay's point of view, also a different route for me. There are a lot of scenes here...some happy, some unpleasant, some awful. This is more of a slice of life piece I think.
> 
> As another note, while this does allude to BDSM...these two are not in a proper BDSM relationship by any means, but that is because we are dealing with Ramsay, whom we all know is an unforgiving sadist. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** ASoIaF and all the characters belong to George R. R. Martin.

_He’s seven years old when his father first whips him with the end of a power cord. The sound of it whistling through the air causes him to tense before the impact. The sound of the cord meeting his flesh is even worse. He bites his lip to keep from screaming and the taste of copper floods his mouth in a rush._

_Roose only has scathing words for him as he gags on the taste of his own blood. “You’re just like your mother. Weak.”_

_It’s funny how some words can hurt more than physical injuries._

 

* * *

  
  
It’s one of the few times Ramsay decides to tone down his baser desires in bed. Generally, if there isn’t loads of pain and agony, it means no fun is being had. At least not on Ramsay’s end. Theon prefers pleasure to pain, which is unfortunate, but what can be said about a man that sticks around for more? Still, sometimes you have to give a little to get a little. If there was only pain, Theon probably wouldn’t stay.

If he had his way, this would start out totally different, things would start out with the real leather handcuffs, the whip, the crop, maybe even the gag. If he were feeling ambitious, he would bring out the needles and knives, but sometimes Theon got far to finicky and queasy with those. Unfortunately. Ramsay works with what he has because it's Theon's night and all of the above is simply not on the roster.

So instead of a flog, he uses oil on Theon’s back, his strong fingers massing it in. This gets Theon worked up, really worked up and if that’s what it takes to get him off, that’s what Ramsay will do. He can see the scars on Theon’s back and he uses that visual to conjure up the actual occasion that gave Theon those scars, because _that_ is what gets Ramsay all revved up. Massages, soft words, those all get Theon happy. Flogs, whips, and chains…well that’s all Ramsay.

Somewhat bored, because there isn’t enough screaming, Ramsay works his way down Theon’s back, still admiring the scars as Theon makes those soft noises of pleasure. He gently spreads his cheeks and works a well-oiled finger in, stretching and searching for Theon’s special place. Theon is moaning now, thrusting his body back towards Ramsay and he slowly turns him over because he may as well get to the good part now. Ramsay doesn't have the patience of a saint, after all. Neither does Theon for that matter, little shit can't ever keep it in his pants.

Theon is flushed, his eyes full of something that Ramsay doesn’t want to acknowledge, but he takes it as a sign that he is doing something right. He strokes his own cock roughly and thinks of the way Theon yelps when he gets flogged and that helps fill his cock with more blood. He eases into Theon slowly, relishing in the way Theon's entrance stretches around him, and Theon wraps his arms around him, biting roughly at his neck. Ramsay growls at the feeling of Theon’s teeth and snaps his hips sharply, digging his nails into Theon’s hips hard. No one ever said Ramsay couldn't be _slightly_ rough on Theon's night.

He runs his tongue down Theon’s neck, tasting his sweat, breathing hoarsely, “You like that, babe?”

Yes, he even whips out the sickeningly cute nicknames that Theon likes. It is Theon’s night, after all. Ramsay’s night is tomorrow…and shit that flog is at the top of his list right now. Theon brings his mouth to his and kisses him hard, wrapping his hands in Ramsay’s hair roughly. “Fuck yeah, you know how I like it. You fill me so good.”

Yes, yes Ramsay does. He bites Theon’s clavicle hard, hard enough to nearly draw blood. Theon winces and a small thrill shoots through Ramsay’s stomach at the hint of pain. The sound of their skin slapping together is hot, but the way Theon clings to him like he’s about to fall off the earth is even better.

It’s get far better when Theon hisses wildly, “I want you to fuck me harder.”

So he does, because Theon likes that…but only because Ramsay taught him to like it. The headboard is smacking hard into the wall and the neighbors are probably pissed, but Ramsay gives no shits about that. Theon’s face has gone blank with pleasure, with a slight mix of pain and Ramsay rolls his hips into him harder and harder, sliding in and out.

Theon comes all over his stomach with a cry, “ _I love you_.”

As his body tightens around Ramsay’s cock, the words alone make Ramsay’s mind go blank with pleasure. He thrusts harder against Theon, pressing his knees to his chest to get even deeper into him. The sound of their flesh slapping together is moderately arousing to Ramsay, as it reminds him of the sound Theon’s skin makes when Ramsay flogs him so hard that his skin bleeds.

Theon is panting harshly and Ramsay briefly looks into his dark baby blues, relishing the look of satisfaction there, the look that says Theon isn’t going anywhere else any time soon. Or ever, if Ramsay has his way. Dwelling on the thought of owning Theon for the rest of his life, being able to fuck and punish him forever, sends Ramsay over the edge. He digs his fingers into Theon’s skinny hips hard (hard enough to bruise, of course) and nearly bites his tongue to stop himself from saying anything he’s going to regret later-  
  
~~I fucking love you.~~

The sickening thought never leaves his head and he wants to tear it to shreds, but he locks it away instead. If he could throw away the key he would.  
  
Breathing harshly, Ramsay presses his forehead against Theon’s. Theon is giving him a hazy look, content and happy. The problem is, this isn’t about what Theon wants, and Theon can’t have his cake and eat it too. Therefore, Ramsay says what needs to be said, to make sure there are no misunderstandings.

“Theon.”

“Yeah?” It’s a breathless sigh.

“Never say that to me ever again or I’ll bite your tongue until it bleeds,” Ramsay replies in a dangerously soft tone.

Rules. Ramsay has them and Theon must obey.

 

* * *

 

_He’s fourteen when his favorite dog dies._

_“It was just a dog, Ramsay. You need to stop sniveling like a child.”_

_His heart is breaking as he strokes her thick fur, one last time. “She wasn’t just some dog. I love her.”_

_“If there is one lesson you need to learn, it is that everything you love can be taken away. People can hold your feelings over you. Never love anything, son. You will always end up losing it.”_

_Ramsay takes those words to heart. He takes everything his father says to heart._

 

* * *

  
Ramsay is not a jealous man.

The problem with taking Theon out in public is that he is more apt to be social. The – _problem_ \- with taking him in public is that Theon interacts with other people, not just Ramsay, which is wrong because Ramsay should be the center of Theon’s world at all times.

Ramsay grits his teeth as he watches Theon across the bar. He left him for only a moment in time and already Theon is talking to some girl. Ramsay’s blood boils at the sight, not only because Theon belongs to him, but because Theon _likes women._ It’s bad enough just thinking of all the skanks Theon fucked before becoming Ramsay’s, what is really intolerable is the fact that Theon still looks at them like he still _wants_ to be in bed with a woman.

 _Over my dead body,_ Ramsay seethes mentally, _and yours, Reek._

As he watches Theon continue to talk with the girl, Ramsay is simply astounded by the stupidity of his… ~~boyfriend~~ filthy Pet. _It’s like he wants to be punished. He’s being a bad boy on purpose._ It isn’t like Theon got the nickname ‘Reek’ for being faithful partner. He got the name for reeking like a whore the one and only time Ramsay caught him in bed with someone else. Needless to say, Theon didn’t see the light of day for a long time after that incident. The girl involved was lucky to get out of the house alive.

_~~He doesn’t want me anymore.~~ _

Ramsay violently suppresses his thoughts, his weak, pathetic thoughts. This isn’t about what Theon wants, this is about Theon being his and his alone. It’s never been about Theon in the first place, so he sits and waits, watching as the fury builds in his chest to the breaking point. Ramsay can pretend to be a patient man, he can wait for Theon to dig a deeper hole.

The deeper the better, after all.

Theon is laughing at something the girl said, he’s giving her the bedroom eyes and Ramsay thinks he’s going to be sick, but he shoves that feeling down because he doesn’t care, _he doesn’t care_. He watches as Theon puts his hand on her chin and tilts her head to look up at him and Ramsay jumps into a black pit of fury, as if he hadn’t already been there. It seems like an eternity, but Theon finally turns and sees Ramsay, sees his face. The shit eating grin seems to slide right off the far end of his lips, straight into hell and Ramsay loves every second of it.

Theon already knows that Ramsay is off the deep end by the time they reach the car. Ramsay throws himself into the driver seat and revs the engine, reveling in the deep growl of the Camaro, how it sounds like how the monster in his chest _feels_. Theon grabs on to the door handle as they speed off, completely drunk, “Ssslow the fuck down, Ramsay! We are going to get pulled over.”

“The fuck we are.”

“We are going to get in an acci-”

“ _Shut the fuck up_!”

Theon does, because those are the rules.

When they get home, Theon is already trembling, he knows what’s coming. Furious, Ramsay slams his pet against the nearest wall, nearly spitting with rage. It's fine since Theon can barely stand anyway. “What did I do?” Theon asks fearfully, as if he _doesn’t already know._

“You’re such a _filthy_ slut,” Ramsay snarls, his lips curling violently, “You know what you did. Don’t lie to me with those filthy whore lips.”

He doesn’t even understand why Theon looks mortified by those words. _Why so shocked, Reek? You know what you really are._

“I’m sssorry…I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t do anything wrong, I wasn’t going to actually do anything with her-”

He’s lying, because Theon is good at lying when he’s threatened. Too bad Ramsay sees through all of that now.

Theon yelps out as Ramsay slams him against the wall once more. “Wrong answer. You touched her.”

“I didn’t touch anyone!”

“I saw you! Don’t lie to me. What did you think would happen? Did you think you could take her in the bathroom for a quickie? Huh? I swear, if I take my eyes off of you for a second you’re latched on to someone new.”

“I’m sssorry, I didn’t mean to.” Tears are beginning to creep into Theon’s voice.

Ramsay steps away from him, shaking his head and laughing darkly. “Why do you do this to me? Don’t I give you everything you want? Fancy cars, dinners, watches? You think I want to watch you flirt with everything that moves? Can I expect to find you screwing a new girl into my couch-”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you!” Theon shouts out, his eyes flashing desperately, trying to get through to Ramsay, trying to escape the doom he knows is coming, but deep down he knows it’s too late already.

In fact, Theon realizes he has said the wrong words the moment they leave his lips. Ramsay laughs and it is a sharp painful sound. Oh how cute, Theon thinks it _hurts_. He grabs Theon by the wrist and leads him towards the bedroom, his pale eyes lingering on the door frame. He would show him _hurt._

“If you want me to forgive you, you need to be punished first. I’m sure you want me to forgive you, right? You know how this goes. Otherwise, you can pack your bags and _fucking_ leave.”

It’s a lie of course, Ramsay would never want Theon to leave, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Tears are sliding down Theon’s cheeks and he is sniffling miserably. His tears are not attractive, but Ramsay doesn’t really care. “How do you want to punish me?”

“Sir,” Ramsay snaps.

“Sssir.”

Theon’s voice is soft, the soft voice that Ramsay ~~loves~~ enjoys. “Place you hand there, no not there you fool, _there_.”

Trembling, Theon places his hand on the door frame. Ramsay breathes into Theon’s ear as he says, “Look at me.”

Theon’s whole body is now shaking like a leaf, but as ordered, _always as ordered,_ he turns his head to meet Ramsay’s eyes. Ramsay can feel the excitement building in his chest at the broken look in Theon’s eyes. Ramsay loves when Theon accepts his fate, the expression always so lost and desolate. What is even better is that Theon actually believes he deserves his punishment. Any other man would be indignant, but not Ramsay’s beloved pet, oh no.

Ramsay waits a few breathless moments, just to build the anticipation. Then, when he can’t wait any longer, he slams the door on Theon’s hand.

_Repeatedly._

Ramsay is not a jealous man.

 _But I’ve been known to lie,_ he thinks vaguely as Theon screams.

 

* * *

 

It’s not the first time they have found themselves in the hospital and it certainly won’t be the last. The nurses always give Ramsay a suspicious glare, but Theon never puts any blame on him, he just makes up some lie, like how he fell down the stairs or how he shut the car door on his hand by accident.

Ramsay can see the strain in Theon’s eyes though, his eyes that often show his true feelings. He’s going to have to make it up to Theon this week…maybe make it Theon’s night when he’s better to get back in the bedroom? He was really fucking turned on by smashing his hand up…but that wasn’t really something Theon enjoyed and the hospital bill wasn’t going to be pretty either. He fucked up Theon’s hand pretty bad, they think he may have fractured a bone or something. A finger (or two) is broken as well.

Whatever. Ramsay will pay for the best doctor to fix up Theon. He always does.

It’s unfortunate really. Ramsay would give anything for Theon to magically turn into a masochist. It isn’t his fault he’s a sadist, but he does what he can to keep Theon happy.

But Ramsay has needs too.

He just can’t ever let Theon know that sometimes what he needs is him.

 

* * *

 

  
Ramsay often forgets that there are two Theon’s. There is the Theon that he created and the one that he destroyed. It is unfortunate that the Theon he destroyed is the Theon that caught his eye in the first place.

This being said, it is always a shock when the old Theon rears his head. Like now, the dark look of anger and disgust lingering in his baby blues as he glares in Ramsay’s direction. Theon is roughly stuffing one of the pillowcases with a few of his belongings, knocking things over in the process. Ramsay wants to punish him for causing such chaos in his townhouse, but for some reason he can’t find the words to say to bring Theon back under his control because this is the real thing.

He watches numbly as Theon steps into his shoes (the ones that Ramsay bought him). Ramsay’s heart is pounding in his skull and he feels ill. More than anything, he wants to grab Theon, fight with him (as in, have a two sided fight instead of Theon just taking it) and then chain him to the bed until he gives up this foolish notion of leaving.

Because that’s what Theon is doing. He’s _leaving._

_Please don’t go. Don’t leave. I swear I’ll be better. I can get better. I can treat you how you want to be treated._

The pain from biting his lips to keep the words from falling out helps to clear his mind, helps to keep those traitorous words from pouring out.

Theon dashes down the stairs and stands in the doorway, clutching the pillowcase like a desperate man. The sunlight is shining behind him and he looks like a vengeful angel, come to punish Ramsay for every wrong he has ever committed. Or rather, come to take the only thing he ~~loves~~ …nevermind.

“So that’s it, huh? You’re going to leave me?” Ramsay hisses, biting back the worry that is really devouring his mind, because if he stays cool and unpleasant Theon won't know he's struck the spot that hurts.

Nodding slowly, Theon’s hand opens the door and the summer breeze makes his hair wave softly. “You can’t make me stay. Don’t even try.”

It feels like something is shriveling up inside him as he says the cold words back, his eyes likes razor blades as he stares Theon down, “I won’t.”

Theon is staring at him, something sad in his eyes, like he wants Ramsay to stop him, like he secretly wants Ramsay to drag him back up the stairs, like he wants Ramsay to give him a hug and make him feel better, like he did back when Theon lost his job and felt like the whole world was coming down on him.

This time is different though.

 

 _He can still remember how Theon was nearly two years ago, the way he would stand on their front deck smoking, his big white sunglasses perched on his face (_ Ramsay should have never bought those fucking pricey things for him, hideous! _). His shit eating grin always present. He would sit in the sun, smoke and drink, flirt with the neighborhood girls as they walked by. He was nearly carefree and that was because Ramsay allowed him to be that way. He kept him like a prized possession, giving him whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, as long as it always looked like it was Ramsay's idea and not Theon's._

_He had sat down next to Theon one morning, taking in the sun when Theon had tried to stick his hand down the front of Ramsay's sweats (in public no less!). Ramsay had swatted him away, telling him to behave. After all, Theon can't just take what he wants whenever he feels like it. Rules and all that jazz._

_"You're always playing hard to get, aren't you?" Theon had said, an amused lilt in his voice, not upset in the least._

_Sneering, Ramsay had replied, "I don't have to play at anything, you're already mine."_

_Theon had tilted his head forward a bit, his ridiculous sunglasses sliding down on the bridge of his nose so Ramsay could see his eyes. "If thinking that helps you sleep at night, babe..."_

_With narrowed eyes and a look cold enough to freeze hell, Ramsay had muttered, "I would watch that mouth of yours, if I were you."_

_Theon takes the hidden order in a stride and prattles on aimlessly about something else. He knows how to behave. Ramsay is his stand-in father, after all. Theon had a rough childhood, a crazy mother, an abusive unloving father. While Ramsay had an unloving father as well, Ramsay knew how to take care of himself and Theon had gravitated towards that. He needed a strong hand on the back of his neck. Theon_ wanted _a strong hand on his neck. That hand just happened to be Ramsay's._

 

Ramsay isn’t going to beg, he isn’t going to say the words that he knows he needs to say to bring Theon back up those stairs. He won’t get on his knees even though this is agony. He will let go, because letting go isn’t the same as having something taken.

 

* * *

 

It has been a month since Theon left and Ramsay is fucking sick of looking at his damn shampoo. At his stupid, repulsive shirts. At his tacky and expensive wrist watches. His foul white sunglasses. At his-

“Why haven’t you thrown his stuff out, I wonder?” Roose asks airily, examining a baseball cap that Ramsay clearly never wore. Bolton’s don’t wear idiotic things like baseball caps, after all.

Taking a sip from his wine, Ramsay tries to formulate a bland sentence. “I haven’t had the time. Work has been busy, as you well know.”

“He’s been gone for weeks. I haven’t seen his pretty boy face around here for ages. You’ve had time. You’ve had lots of time.”

There is nothing to say in response to that because Ramsay has no excuse. He can’t bear to throw Theon’s belongings out because that would be admitting he failed.

“You’re too weak. This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t given in to his feelings. You could have kept him chasing you if you hadn’t given him what he wanted.”

“I’m not weak,” Ramsay hisses, because he _isn’t_.

Roose’s tight smile is mocking. “You’re hoping he comes back. He won’t. You’re not worth it.”

The wine glass shatters and red spills all over the floor. “I don’t care if he comes back. Back off, father.”

Eyeing the mess on the floor, Roose gets up and puts on his coat. “Call me when you get a hold of yourself, boy. You’re all over the place and it’s disgusting.”

Roose looks at the spilled wine meaningfully and leaves.

When Roose is gone, Ramsay feels his throat tighten with emotion. Instead of being a puss about it, he punches the wall and scowls at the hole he leaves behind. He can get that fixed later and the pain in his hand spurs on his frustrations. The pain is good.

He’s been out of sorts and he’s lost and he doesn’t have Theon, which is the only things he wants, but can’t have because going after him would be relinquishing all power.

Power is the one thing Ramsay can hold on to, no matter what.

 

* * *

 

He is shining his blades, making sure they are clean after the night before. Ramsay went to a dungeon for the first time in years, alone anyway. He always took…Theon. He cut into a particularly willing pain slut the night before and it had been a wonderful release for all the agony and anger that had been building up deep inside.

It hadn’t been enough though. That wasn’t the person he wanted. It didn't even matter all that much that the person wanted it, wanted to be hurt. It wasn't Theon and he felt nothing despite the fact that the monster inside his heart was being fed a dose of pain that it craved.

As he is cleaning the final blade, he hears the front door click and open. For a moment he goes still, because what the fuck? Then warm arms go around him and a face presses against the back of his neck. The scent that surrounds him is familiar, achingly familiar and his heart races at the smell.

“I’m sorry, Ramsay. I was an idiot. I’ve missed you so much. I’m useless without you and you probably already know that. Please don't kill me?”

Ramsay let’s out the breath he had been holding and nearly sags into the embrace. Nearly, but doesn’t. _Theon._

Ramsay bites his tongue and simply lets Theon hug him, because really, he doesn’t care. He’s the one in control and Theon still knows that. Theon has always known that. That’s why he came back.

“Surprise, surprise. Look what the cat dragged in,” Ramsay drawls, like he had been expecting this the whole time, like it was all part of his master plan.

He turns and looks at Theon, because how could he not? Theon looks worried, his sweet playboy eyes searching Ramsay’s face. “You’re…you’re not mad at me?”

Oh, he's mad alright. Probably not the best time to let Theon in on that little secret though. Not to mention he doesn't even want to think of where Theon has been all this time, what bed he's been haunting. _Ugh_.

“Why would I be mad? I knew you would come back.” Lies. Lies. Lies. Let Theon think he was fine the whole time, happy in fact, it’s safer that way. That doesn't change that fact that Ramsay is simply dying to pin him down and slap Theon in the face a few times for being an utter idiot in the first place.

Theon rolls his eyes. “Of course you did, you arrogant shit. I probably would have come back sooner, but I figured I would let you cool off…figured you would beat my ass for…”

Cocking his head to the side, Ramsay mockingly sneers, “Leaving?”

Laughing awkwardly, like he always does when he is nervous, Theon continues, “Robb was so sick of me living off his couch. He basically called me a useless sack or a pampered brat that got everything handed to me by my sugar daddy. The nerve, right? He still isn’t your biggest fan. You should have heard what his wife was calling me, I feel like she was on the damn rag all month! Is that possible? Seriously.”

There is only one thing in that whole sentence that really stood out. That and sugar daddy anyway. “You stayed with Robb Stark?”

“Uh…yeah? Where else would I go, it’s not like I have much money, you’ve always taken of that for me.”

Ramsay nearly sees red, because he fucking hates Theon’s ex best friend. _Robb Fucking Arsehat Stark._

“Well shit,” Theon mutters, watching Ramsay’s face.

Things don’t change and Ramsay isn’t weak.

There are rules, after all.


	2. Yes, Sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some nights, Ramsay comes home. Other nights, Sir comes home. 
> 
> Sir is another beast entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I own nothing. 
> 
> **Notes:** Ramsay's night...as promised. Despite the crazy episode last week, I actually had most of this finished so it's actually ironic how everything turned out :P

There are rules in every relationship. Some are tame, some are a little out there. Theon would categorize his relationship as…well totally out there. Due to differences in sexual interests, Theon and Ramsay often designate a ‘night’ for each other a few nights a week. When it’s Theon’s night, Ramsay comes home, but when it’s Ramsay’s night…well…Sir comes home. Sir is another beast entirely.

After all, Sir is the reason they have such stupid rules.

Fuckin' A.

 

* * *

  


The fading sun still provides some warmth on Theon’s skin as he lies on the front porch, his big white sunglasses covering most of his face. Lord knows that Ramsay calls the shades ‘the ridiculous Versace thing on your face’ often enough, but he shouldn’t complain, he bought them for Theon. _The whiney ponce,_ Theon thinks fondly in passing. A cigarette dangles between his fingers lazily, the smoke curling through the air. When the sound of his phoning beeping breaks the silence, Theon groans; Asha couldn’t _possibly_ have that much more to say about the matter…

**_Beep_ **

_“What sort of twat are you? One minute I’m leaving for vacation and you are homelessly living on Stark’s couch like a vagrant. The next minute, I’m coming home and hit the Stark’s to say hi to you…and you aren’t there.”_

_“Asha, get over it.” **Send**_

**_Beep_ **

_“And why aren’t you there? Because you are hitting it with the Evil Overlord again! Don’t tell me to get over it!”_

_“Asha, how do you type that fast? Get a life.” **Send**_

**_Beep_ **

His sister has been bitching at him for days and frankly, Theon is fucking tired of it. The girl has got to take her big sister boots off at some point. Stretching, Theon reaches for his phone again to respond once more, but when he looks at the name he stiffens. It’s not his sister this time and a shot of adrenaline races through his system like a drug.

“ _When I come home, I expect you to be kneeling on the floor beside the front door. You will not wear clothes. You will not look at me. You will not speak to me when I enter.”_

Theon stares at the text and reluctantly stubs out his cigarette on the porch. “Well shit, I just lit the damn thing,” he mutters, squinting up at the dying sun one last time before heading into the brick townhouse.

It’s Friday. Tonight is Ramsay’s night. _Right._ There’s no forgetting that. Or avoiding it.

Striding quickly into their bedroom, Theon strips off his clothes and throws them into the hamper across the room. It wouldn’t do to leave them on the floor; Sir wouldn’t like that. Theon is an inherent slob; Ramsay cleans when he feels like it, but Sir wants _order_. If he thinks about it enough, Theon wonders why the hell he puts up with it all even though deep down he knows where he would be without Ramsay.

Theon knows that if anyone were to ask Asha Greyjoy about her baby brother four years ago, she would have told them that someone needed to take him in hand, and fast, because the boy couldn’t get himself on track, always lost, always letting the tide take him in the moment. The drugs, the women, the days and nights where no one knew if Theon was alive or not…the Greyjoy family couldn’t control Theon’s wayward spirit.

Meeting Ramsay was like running into a wall made of steel; unyielding and intimidating. Once Theon had fallen into his grasp, there was no turning back. Not that Theon had wanted to anyway, the feeling of having someone else take care of him was simply too hard to break away from. Even if the relationship wasn’t exactly candy and roses. Or maybe it was, but with bruises and scars mixed in.

Before he leaves the bedroom, Theon’s eyes fall on the framed picture on the bedside table. In the frozen image, Theon is giving a goofy shit-eating grin (per the usual) and Ramsay is grabbing him from behind in a bear hug. Theon lingers on Ramsay’s face, the bright icy gray of his glittering eyes and the way his smile always seems to infer that he knows something you don’t. Theon snorts and shakes his head, muttering, “Arrogant bast- ah jerk.”

He cuts himself off before he mentions the B word, the one that is banned from the household vocabulary. He’s made that mistake a few times…but he has nearly curbed the urge to say the word.

 

_Eyes like winter (and just as cold) went wide and Theon already knew he had said something wrong. He didn’t realize…well he kinda forgot about Ramsay’s family situation…he didn’t think a simple word could cause such anger. “What did you call me?” **Whack.**_

_The taste of blood in his mouth was enough to remind Theon that the word bastard went hand in hand with pain and backhands._

Completely naked, Theon walks back to the entryway and glares at the spot he is supposed to occupy. If he _really_ wanted to be a brat, he could just spy out the window instead for hours and run into position before Ramsay walks in the door.

…but that would be cheating. No, Theon will do as he is told. Sighing, he sinks to the ground and gets into position, placing his forehead on the cool bamboo floor. The slight chill causes goosebumps to rise on Theon’s skin.

He doesn’t know when Ramsay will come home from work, but that’s part of the game. He wants Theon to kneel in front of that door without knowing if he will be there within minutes or hours. Theon could be kneeling for hours, until his knees ache and he can’t move because his punishment will be far worse.

Theon rarely likes giving up control so completely…but sometimes there is no other choice. When Sir comes home…Theon must obey. Or else.

If anything, secretly he is thrilled. Rules, ya know? Ramsay has them.

 

* * *

 

Theon’s knees are burning and minutes feel like hours. He feels the blood pounding in his head when he hears the rumble of Ramsay's car pull into the driveway. His heart almost shatters into pieces when he hears the key turn in the lock of the front door. The sound of the door opening. He resists the urge to look up and he squeezes his eyes shut, hoping to see nothing, because if Sir sees him peeking, he will be furious.

There is a horrible silence and Theon thinks his chest is about to break open from the force of his heart pounding against his ribcage. Theon almost flinches when he hears the click of Sir’s fine Italian shoes on the dark bamboo floor. The clicking noise comes to a stop right next to Theon’s crouching form and his cheeks warm, because he is completely exposed and the entire position is utterly humiliating.

Just how Sir likes it.

Theon can almost feel the heat from Sir’s body, because he has a feeling that he is standing right beside Theon, looking down at his pet with eyes so hot that they are cold. _Is he going to say anything or just stand there staring?_ Theon has mutinous thoughts in this situation quite often.

A few more minutes of horrible (and freaking painful, bamboo floor, hello Sir) anticipation pass by, so slowly that Theon wants to scream.

“Reek. Follow me.”

Theon sighs in relief and almost makes as if to stand up when Sir snaps, “Did I ask you to stand? I expect you to crawl. Stay on those knees. I want to see bruises when I’m done with you.”

_Oh, come on!!_ Theon doesn’t think he can take much more of this floor today, but he supposes that is the least of his worries. He still hasn’t been told to look at Sir, even though he really would like to see him. He can smell his cologne, something spicy, and Theon wants to lick a line from Sir’s throat down to his cock.

Too bad Sir probably has other ideas. Lots of ideas. Just not that one, of course.

Sir strides into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of wine. Theon crawls after him awkwardly, keeping his eyes down. He feels like an utter fool crawling around like this, with his cock wagging around like some goofy appendage, like some silly dog tail.

Sir pours himself a glass of Cabernet and takes a few sips, swirling it around his mouth. “This is a good vintage. I imagine you would like some, wouldn’t you, Reek?”

 Uh, yes, Theon definitely would like some of that damn wine, so he nods like he is supposed to, eyes still on the floor. Sir turns his body to face Theon and walks forward until his shoes are directly in front of Theon’s face. “If you want some of the wine, you best get to work cleaning my shoes. Maybe I’ll reward you if you do a good job. Maybe I won't.”

Theon’s stomach rolls over a bit at the words, but he looks at Rams- Sir’s shoes and figures they aren’t too dirty at least. It could be way worse, after all. He crawls forward a bit and begins getting to his task, licking the shoes, trying to make them shiny. It’s gross, it’s disgusting, but he has no damn choice, now does he? “Lick them slower,” Sir utters lowly, “Lick it the way you want to lick my cock.”

Theon obliges, making longer strokes with his tongue, swirling it here and there the way that Sir likes. There is near silence, aside from the sound of Sir’s breath, in and out. It isn’t quite harsh yet, but Theon can tell that it is getting excited.

“Reek, look at me.”

Theon does not stop his current lick, because technically Ram-Sir did not say he could stop. He raises his eyes to meet the cold gray eyes, the eyes filled with all sort of horrors and passions. Theon doesn’t try to understand, he just exists in this world that Sir has created for them. After all, despite all of the agonies, Ramsay takes good care of Theon. Most of the time.

Kinda. Sorta. Asha might have words about that.

“Follow me into the bedroom,” Sir rasps, walking away from Theon’s tongue.

Wine forgotten already?

_Oh, the indignity_ , Theon thinks as he crawls after Sir, trying to keep up with his fast stride. Sir stops in the middle of the room and stands still, expectantly. He raises his eyebrows at Theon, signifying that it is time that Theon assume the position on the floor beside him.

Sir goes to the large chest at the foot of their bed once Theon is in place. He pulls out a thick rope and examines it thoughtfully. “This will do,” he mutters to himself, striding back to his slave.

He roughly grabs Theon’s arms and forces them behind his back. Theon winces at the roughness, making sure that Sir knows he is feeling discomfort. That’s what he wants, after all. “Sit still,” Sir hisses, beginning to wrap Theon up in the reverse prayer pose, both hands high up on the middle of his back, elbows facing down. Theon’s upper arms are burning with the strain as Sir twists and turns the rope around his body, making sure to try and force Theon’s elbows as close as possible without dislocation. “Fu-” Theon gasps as Sir pulls tightly.

“Keep your mouth shut, Reek.”

With his wrists tightly bound, Theon feels the burn in his shoulders already, but sits still as Sir steps back to admire his handiwork. His pupils are blown wide now, the predator within seeing Theon as completely helpless and at his mercy. Which he is, like always.

Still completely clothed, Sir begins to undo his belt and the sound of it clicking makes Theon start to shake with anticipation. Finally, something he might like, finally the fun part. Sir whips his belt out of the loops on his slacks, folding it in half in one hand so he can snap the leather in his hand loudly. The sound is sharp and sings of what is to come.

 Sir is quite erect already, so when he stands in front of Theon expectantly, Theon sets to work, a little awkwardly. He is wary of the folded belt still in dangling from Sir’s hand; a warning. He shuffles forward on his knees, wobbling a little. The strain on his body is quite uncomfortable, but Sir is expecting him to give a good blow, without his hand for support.

Being tied up is no excuse for a half-cocked job.

Smirking darkly, Sir steps away from Theon as soon as he gets close. Nearly huffing in frustration, Theon tries again, shuffling closer. This time he asks permission to suck Sir’s cock (letting that desperate whine enter his voice, Sir likes that) and Sir lets him. Theon runs his tongue up and down the shaft, slowly, watching it jump under his caresses. “Lick the tip,” Sir hisses hoarsely, his eyes hooded.

Theon obeys, licking at the liquid that has begun to collect there. It drips drips drips, because Sir loves watching Theon's humiliation. He licks and sucks at the bulbous head, listening to Ramsay pant. He enjoys this, making Ramsay come undone under his tongue. Theon hollows his cheeks and sucks harder, then moves to lick at Ramsay’s balls, inhaling his musky scent.

Sir steps away from him quickly. “Get my crop,” he whispers, still clutching the belt.

Theon wants to scowl, but he shuffles over to the open torture chest and looks inside, well aware that Sir is watching his every move. Theon’s knees are killing him, his shoulders are burning. He really hopes that Sir unties him sometime soon, like really soon.

He picks up the crop in question with his mouth the best he can. Sir probably put the crop on top of the pile, knowing that he would make Theon get it while tied up. He awkwardly crawls back over to Ramsay, like a dog, offering him the crop in his mouth. There is a dark smirk hovering on his mouth as he looks down at Theon and he can only imagine what is going on behind those ghostly eyes.

“Your choice, Reek. The crop or the belt?”

Ah. Choose the lesser evil? Is there one? The crop was thinner than the belt width….but the belt sure snapped pretty hard against his arse last time. Almost huffing again, Theon drops the crop out of his mouth and licks his lips for good measure. “The belt…Sir.”

The smile that lights up Sir’s face tells Theon that he expected Theon to choose the belt the whole time. Great. That couldn’t mean anything good. When is this going to get good? Bah. Sir gestures with his free hand, pointing one finger to the ceiling and twirling it in lazy circles. Theon turns around as a result, presenting his arse to Sir.

Theon leans forward to touch his forehead to the ground, as best he can. The ropes holding his arms behind his shoulders makes it slightly difficult. There is mostly silence aside from their combined breathing. Theon’s breath is shaky, Ramsay’s is a pant. Theon flinches a few times, anticipating a strike, yet nothing happens. He can almost see that hateful smile on Ramsay’s lips at his fear.

When the belt comes down, Theon is barely expecting it since he had flinched early, expecting the strike a moment too soon. He cries out loudly when it connects with the skin of his arse, causing his eyes to water. “Count out nine more, slut,” Sir growls, just warming up.

There is the tell tale whistle of the belt coming down and Theon exhales loudly as it connects. Sir doesn't pull his punches and he is _strong_. He wants to choke on his own spit, but he manages to shout out, “Two!”

He continues on until he has received ten lashes total. He is shaking by the end of it and his arse is on fire, his arms are on fire. Sir is on fire, that much is true. _Come on, come on, give me what I want,_ Theon thinks mutinously, because when is it going to get better?

Ramsay throws the belt onto the bed and kicks the crop away as he knees beside Theon. _Oh my God. Thank you._ The ropes begin to loosen and when they fall away, Theon wants to scream for joy and agony all at once, because his limbs have prickles all up and down. “Is that better, Reek?” Sir asks, his mouth on his ear.

His breath makes Theon shiver.

A sigh. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

Sir smacks him hard on his burning arse and Theon yelps loudly. Sir just likes seeing his imprint on Theon’s skin far too much. “Lay where you are and wait for me,” Sir commands.

Theon lays on his stomach, because really.

A look of displeasure crosses Ramsay’s face. “On your back, you idiot.”

_Ugh_. Theon rolls over reluctantly because it hurts a little and he needs a few minutes for the burning fire to calm. Sometimes it feels good, all the blood rushing to that spot that Ramsay paid attention to, but sometimes it stings too much. If he thinks hard enough, it might feel good. It’s a state of mind, of course.

When Sir returns, he is holding a bulky mask in his hands. Theon tries to swallow even though his throat goes dry at the sight of it. It is a gas mask and Theon fears it more than anything he can think of. He struggles to remain prone before Sir, shaking, because he knows what comes next. “Please, I swear, I’ll do anything else, just not this. Ramsay-”

Displeasure flashes through Sir’s harsh eyes. “Silence, Reek. Did I ask you to beg?”

Teeth chattering, body shaking, Theon isn’t prepared, he doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want the mask and he just wants Ramsay to stop, but Sir is in full swing now and there is no stopping him. He could whip out a safe word, but there is never a guarantee that Sir will even listen to it. In fact, there is always the chance that it will make him more furious, cause him to feed off the real fear in the air.

Sir puts the mask over Theon’s head and Theon knows better than to struggle. His vision almost goes black for a moment, his fear becoming so intense. _Please don’t, please don’t, please don’t do this to me._

The mask is warm and stifling, Theon feels trapped, like he has been stuffed into a small box and can’t escape. He can breathe through it, for now, but he sounds like some awful robotic creature. Sir is watching him carefully, smirking slightly. “Calm down, Reek. I haven’t done anything, yet. But I will. I can promise you that. You will like this.”

The look in Theon’s eyes must have told Ramsay that Theon didn’t believe that line one bit because Ramsay adds, “You WILL like this. I’ll make you like it.”

There, on the floor of their bedroom, Sir kneels, completely naked this time, between Theon’s shaking legs. He looks down at his pet seriously, stroking his cock slowly. He spits in his hand and rubs it over his already slightly wet hard-on. Then rubs more spit on Theon puckered entrance, making Theon twitch.

The gentle sensation of those fingers gently circling his hole makes Theon feel his cock begin to fill with blood. When a finger enters him, seeking slowly and firmly, he whimpers into the mask. Sir works him up, watching him the whole time. Theon nearly comes apart a few times, the fingers stroking that place inside that he loves. Ramsay is always good at this. It’s how Theon kept coming back to his bed in the first place.

When Sir pushes in with his cock, so warm and hot against Theon’s skin, Theon gasps because he wants it.  There isn’t much air coming into the mask, which is kind of scary, but it only seems to make him even more light headed. Sir groans out loudly as he strokes in and out, setting a slow but firm pace. He doesn’t rush this, he never does. Theon is usually screaming for him to speed up by the time Ramsay actually does.

Theon tries to not concentrate on the mask, he tries to focus his eyes on Sir’s face, the way it contorts with animal pleasure. He concentrates on the way Sir’s cock strokes him inside, every nerve attuned. His nerves, his fear only seems to spur on his arousal, makes his adrenaline go mad.

Sir drives him mad. Mad like no one else ever has.

“Sir, please….fuck.”

The sound of their skin slapping together is obscene and wet.

“What do you want, Reek?” Thrust. “You want me to fuck your slutty fucking arse harder?” Thrust. “You want me to fill you up with cum? Make you mine?”

The words make Theon’s stomach clench hard, fire building in his belly. He loves Sir's dirty mouth. “ _Yes_ ,” he breathes out.

“Yes, _what,_ Reek?”

“Yes, Ssiiir.”

Sir stops thrusting for a moment, looking down at Theon. There is something there, in those eyes, something that Theon can’t quite make out. He wants to believe it’s something like love, maybe obsession if he’s honest. It’s something though, it’s something strong, it’s Sir feeling something strongly about him.

Just as soon as it is there, it gets hidden away, but Theon knows he saw it. He holds on to the visual, the way Sir looks at him when he doesn’t think Theon is paying attention.

Just as soon as he composes himself, Sir starts thrusting hard, angling his hips, holding Theon’s leg over his shoulders to get deeper, oh so deep. Theon cries out as Sir hits that spot, over and over. It feels good…good…good….oh shit.

In a motion that Theon barely notices, Sir closes off the air flow in the mask. He can’t breathe, shit he _can’t breathe!_ Sir hasn’t stopped thrusting though and it’s too much. That spot inside him is being pounded relentlessly and Sir is making those noises, that low moan that says he’s going to cum soon, that he’s going to cum inside of Theon. It works Theon up even more.

In another hard thrust, Theon sees stars and black crosses his sight. He’s cumming, he thinks, but he can’t breathe, but fuck it’s so good….

Then there is nothing, nothing but the faint sound of Ramsay crying out his orgasm. Nothing but black.

He isn’t sure how long he passed out for, but when Sir takes that stupid fucking brilliant mask off his face, Theon kisses him hard, barely there. Ramsay bites his lip a bit in response, a gentle warning. They are on the bed and Theon doesn’t really remember how they got there. He must have been pretty out of it…

Theon is still shivering from the intensity of it all, he is breathing so loudly, so heavily that he fears his lungs are trying to crawl up through his throat. Ramsay has him in a warm, strong embrace and Theon leans into him, seeking strength and heat. Lips brush across his forehead and Ramsay is whispering unintelligible things against his skin. Theon feels like he is falling from the highest tower of a castle and the only thing keep his fall from becoming uncontrollable is Ramsay.

The adrenaline is leaking from his skin, pumping from his heart. Fear, lust, shock, and pleasure mix into the one and same and it’s like a sensory overload for Theon, as always.

When he finally begins to calm, to feel like he is back on Earth, Theon looks up into Ramsay’s eyes and is rewarded with an almost fond look, deep in those fierce eyes. Ramsay leans down and kisses him deeply, darkly, and Theon can feel the possessiveness behind the gesture. When they part Ramsay smirks and says, “I told you I would make you like it.”

Theon can’t stop the tired grin that steals across his lips. _It was worth it,_ he thinks.

They lay there comfortably, Theon still feeling the aches in his body, but also a complete sense of satisfied exhaustion. Ramsay is quiet, which he usually is after sex. Theon figures it’s some sort of complex Ramsay has, like he can’t really get emotionally involved all that much. Daddy issues and all, ya know. Theon understands those. 

Theon also suspects Ramsay fears what might come out of his mouth if he opens it.

It’s annoying as hell, but Theon is used to it after all these years.

“Babe,” Theon starts to say, momentarily forgetting himself in the comfortable moment. “I forgot to mention, for tomorrow, we have lunch with-”

“Theon.” His name is said in a dark tone.

Theon watches as Ramsay looks at him menacingly from the corner of his eyes. The bright gray is still there, dangerous and fiery all at once. He doesn't need to say anything more for Theon to get the hint. Theon shudders and goes silent, snuggling up against Ramsay in hopes of pacifying him. Ramsay’s night isn’t over yet it seems, so Sir’s rules are still in play. Cute pet names are a huge no no.

He whispers against Ramsay’s skin. “Yes, Sir.”

Rules. Ramsay has them. Theon simply obeys.

 

* * *

 

The next morning things are back to normal, or as normal as they can be. Sir has crawled back into the depths of hell, or something, and Ramsay is back to his surly self. Theon is completely appreciative.

“Are you done yet, mate? Are ya? Are ya?”

Almost.

Ramsay glares at the mirror, because Theon is _ruining_ this. “If I were done, would I still be in here?”

“You’re worse than a girl. Really, mate, it’s your Dad’s. It’s not like we are going to the Prom or some bullshit.”

“I would prefer the Prom,” Ramsay grunts out, combing his fingers through his hair once more.

Theon pops his head into the master bathroom and stands beside Ramsay, looking surprisingly dapper. He clearly made some sort of an effort, but his effort never seems to take as long as Ramsay’s. Theon looks a little tired, has a large bite mark on his neck, and seems to have successfully hidden the rope burn on his wrists. “Do I look alright?” Theon asks, preening in the mirror.

He knows he looks good, so why the fuck does he _ask_? “Are you taking a piss? Stop fishing for compliments, you shit,” Ramsay spits out, washing his face again.

Theon may think it’s ‘just his Dad’s house’, but this is Roose Bolton and Ramsay has to be at his best at all times. He can’t look weak in front of his father. He has to look like he has control. Of everything. Theon included.

He realizes that Theon is watching him struggle to get his dress shirt buttoned up with amusement, but whatever, not everyone is magically perfect like Theon fucking Greyjoy. A warm hand grabs his and steadies it. Ramsay looks up at Theon and sees the knowing smile lingering on his lips. “You look great. Stop fidgeting and let’s just go. Please?”

The “please” makes Ramsay drag out the prepping for twenty more minutes, just to spite Theon and listen to him agonize over lost time.

When they arrive at his father’s mansion, Theon gleefully mentions that he hopes Roose ‘brings out the good stuff’. Ramsay scoffs at this, simply because his father would probably do the opposite, knowing Theon would be coming with Ramsay. Theon is a notorious drunk after all. Not only that, but Roose most likely has not forgotten the drunken passes Theon had made at him last time he left the good scotch out.

Now that he thinks of it, Ramsay hasn’t forgotten that pass either and it makes him feel quite resentful.

 

_Roose is pouring a drink when he is accosted by Theon’s unwanted presence. The unsteady (and very drunk) young man leans against the wall for support, giving Roose what he assumes the boy thinks is an attractive squint. “Haay. Ya know…you’re not bad looking…for your age. Like. You are a total DIIIILF. You know what that is? I’ll…I’ll tell you…”_

_“You will do no such thing,” Roose drawls, turning his head to give Ramsay one of the most unfeeling looks possible._

_While the look is completely blank, Ramsay can definitely_ get _meaning from the look. It basically says ‘you brought this foulness upon me boy, this is your fault and I will never forgive you’. Ramsay takes a step forward to try and pull Theon away, but Theon slides down the wall like a drunken piece of sludge and slumps on the floor. Oh yeah, he slid the whole way down._

_When Ramsay moves to pick Theon up, Roose simply steps over Theon’s body and utters, “Leave him,” as he glides back to his seat by the fireplace.  
_

 

The moment they step through the door, Theon is assaulted with love from Walda, buried deep in her…ah…deep bosom. Ramsay is sure Theon enjoys it immensely, unfaithful little shit. She kisses his ~~boyfriend~~ attention whore on the cheek and cries out, “Theon! Oh I’ve missed you! I was so upset to hear about the breakup. You poor dear.”

The nerve. Acting like Theon has been wronged. Theon left Ramsay, not the other way around. Ramsay clears his throat and says stiffly, “Oh, Walda? We are back. Together. He’s fine.”

Walda gives him a slightly strained smile, because let’s face it, they have never gotten along perfectly. Ramsay tried to pretend being nice, back when she had first married Roose, but after a while she finally told him that his fake smile looked like a serial killer grin and he needed to stop pretending. “I know, but he is so precious, I wanted to make sure he was feeling alright,” she says lightly.

Theon kisses her on the cheek. “I’m fine now that I’ve seen your beautiful self.”

Ramsay silently mouths the word beautiful, because _really_. Theon is such a suck-up, a freaking cocksucker.

There is a loud wail that sounds into the hallway and Walda gasps, “Oh dear, that will be Raina. Let me go get her.”

Theon follows her before Ramsay can say another word, chattering wildly to her the whole way. He rolls his eyes and walks into their main sitting room, complete with a bar. He pours himself a glass of red and drinks it thoughtfully, trying to distract himself from the fact that he has to see this godforsaken baby for the first time.

Walda and Theon join him shortly after, Theon holding a bundle in his arms. He is cooing to it in a disgusting manner and Ramsay wants to smack him for being a traitor.

Theon holds the baby out to Ramsay, saying, “Hold your sister for a moment, will you?”

_What?_ “I don’t want to hold her.”

Scowling, Theon shoves the infant into Ramsay’s arms. “Hold the damn baby! I need a beer.”

Walda giggles at the horror struck look on Ramsay’s face, at the look of dread as he looks down at the gurgling baby. “What. Does. It. Want?”

“She is looking at you! She doesn’t want anything. She’s your sister you know,” Walda says, that goofy smile on her face.

He hates her goofy face.

Ramsay glares at her, because he’s way too old to have an infant for a sister. “She doesn’t have the Bolton eyes.”

The young woman looked slightly disappointed at those words. “I know…but her eyes might change still. Who knows? I think she is absolutely precious.”

Rolling his eyes, Ramsay thinks, _you would, wouldn’t you?_ The baby keeps looking at him like she has no idea he’s really a monster, a horrible, awful monster. A monster that likes to hurt the only person that matters in his life, because hurting him makes Ramsay feel so good, more bloodthirsty and horrible in every way.

The baby smiles at him and Ramsay wants to cringe and hide from those innocent forgiving eyes. “Oh look! She loves you already,” Walda exclaims, so proud of her baby as any new mother would be.

“She shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what?”

“Love me. That would be a mistake,” Ramsay snaps harshly.

The look on Walda’s face can either be shock or disturbed pity, Ramsay doesn’t really give two fucks which it is. “Theon loves you, Ramsay.”

His heart clenches at those words and Ramsay mutters, “Well, he’s an idiot.”

Looking at the creature in his hands, Ramsay briefly conjures up some horrific thoughts on how his life might change if this child had been a boy. He might have had to do something quite inhumane and Theon would want him anyway.

Something unholy must have shown in his eyes because the cool tone of Roose broke the silence, “Walda, I think my son looks overwhelmed. Please take Raina so that I may speak with him.”

“Oh, of course! It is probably time for her feeding anyway.”

Ramsay gladly hands the baby over, feeling his skin crawl. “Hello, father.”

Standing in regal form, Roose Bolton regards his son with vague interest. “I had not realized that you would be bringing a guest.”

Fixing him with a dark glare, Ramsay replies, “You know he goes everywhere with me. Don’t act like you didn’t know he would be coming.”

“Hmm. It was wishful thinking on my part, it seems. I had not realized you had bounced back so quickly from the…dissolution of your relationship.”

“He’s back at home where he belongs. You can expect to see him from now on.”

There is a cold pity in Roose’s eyes as he utters softy, “Make sure you keep things under control better this time. It wouldn’t do for someone to report you for assault one of these days. It would look bad for me.”

It’s like a slap in the face to hear those words out of his father’s mouth, but he knows it’s the truth. Ramsay clenches his fists and then relaxes them. “I understand. I’m trying to do better…”

“Try harder.”

It's frustrating how nothing is good enough, nothing is good enough for his father.

**_Beeeeep_ **

Their conversation is interrupted when a loud and obnoxious beep echoes through the room. Roose and Ramsay snap their heads over to the bar, where Theon is looking dead guilty with phone in hand.

_“Theon. Just checking in to make sure you are still alive. It’s been a week since I last saw you in person…so…yeah.”_

_“I’m fine, Robb. Still alive. Thanks for being my friend, man.” **Send**_

Theon feels slightly guilty about that text, because Ramsay is looking over at him suspiciously with his face stormy, like he just knows that Theon is talking to someone he shouldn’t be.

Rules. Ramsay has them.

Theon obeys…sometimes…even though the rules suck.

“What are you doing over there?” Ramsay snaps harshly and Theon nearly cringes, putting his phone on silent and into his pocket.

Roose Bolton rolls his eyes dramatically and downs his scotch, muttering, “Unbelievable…”

He watches as Ramsay storms over to his ~~boyfriend~~ victim, trying to grab his phone and thinks that things probably won’t ever change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your kudos and comments! I love each and every one of them! 
> 
> Thanks for supporting me in this oddity of a fic that is kind of a weird stretch for these two....but it was fun to write!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, let me know what you thought! Kudos and comments definitely welcome! :)
> 
> Who knows, maybe I'll get inspired enough to write a bonus chapter on what the heck "Ramsay's Night" entails...because we've seen Theon's vanilla bullshit!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [jealousy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7188620) by [On_Prozac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/On_Prozac/pseuds/On_Prozac)




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